


Thinking of You

by milkteapuppyy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, Masturbation, Other, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Lust, he was just playing the violin like a fucking emo, i mean he wasnt even guarding anything, pouf is a very bad royal guard, then stopped to jerk off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkteapuppyy/pseuds/milkteapuppyy
Summary: Pouf is on guard duty again when a very familiar feeling irks him. To stay alert, he surmises that he'll have to take care of it as soon as possible. Things do not go as planned.(Find me on twitter! @milkteapuppyy)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	Thinking of You

**Author's Note:**

> if u remember me from my last account No You Dont <3  
> anyway here's my first fic ever of all time yup yessir my very first fic mhm never written before in my life

Steel strings dug into Pouf's fingers, his bow flying swiftly over the neck of the violin in a well worn pattern. This was a song he'd played thousands of times, a dance he's done a thousand more, and yet that familiarity might just be what kept him from tearing his mind away from the thoughts that plagued him. It left gaps in his consciousness not entirely focused on the movements of his hands and body, and left just enough room for them to pierce through the barrier he tried so hard to keep intact. That he did not hold control over his own mind was one of the most frustrating things to him, as his one and only thought should be that of serving the king, nothing more or less.

_Serving the king. That is all I live to do. To fulfill his every whim and desire, and destroy anything that threatens to bring harm to him._

He closed his eyes, allowing the rhythm of his movements to take over him, his wings folded and catching the wind from behind him as the notes ricocheted from all angles of the palace.

_To fulfill his every whim and desire... To do anything he asks of me... I would do anything at his request._

A dangerous thought bubbled up from within him, and no matter his attempts to hold it back, it was conceived and forced to the forefront of his mind.

_If he asked of me... to touch him, to grovel at the shrine of his body... touch him as tenderly as a lover and deflower him with utmost grace... I would._

He stopped. His hands trembled just so, loosening his grip on the neck of his instrument and trailing off his final note with an unceremonious decrescendo that left nothing but his own thoughts to echo within the palace's chamber. Had he really allowed himself to formulate such a thought? To even consider himself worthy of laying a hand on the body of the king was a transgression so great he could not fathom it, and disgust clawed up within him at the insinuation that he could be anything more than a lowly servant.

_I've been allowed too much solitude. In my absence from the king, I may have even begun to develop a bit of individuality._ He turned his nose up at the thought, the moon framing his face in a soft light that revealed the tears welling up in his eyes. Why had he allowed himself to have such an illicit thought? And... why had it sparked something in him?

He swallowed. Shaky hands stilled at his command, wings twitching behind him as he chose to ignore the strange feeling that sought to envelop him in its disgustingly enticing haze. He let out a sigh, breath creating swirling clouds in the cold of the night. He resigned himself to finishing his piece, his nightly performance for an audience of none, yet one that meant a great deal to him. He drew his bow back up to the neck of his violin, which he had positioned just as it was before. He settled the subtle quivering of his wings and drew his legs together, picking up right from where he left off.

_Plie. Tendu. Pirouette. Jete._

He knew this dance by heart. Naming the positions was entirely redundant, and acted solely as a poor distraction from his impermissible thought, which even then managed to catch his attention again once his guard had lowered.

_The king's body... I am entirely unworthy, yet I can't help but imagine how it would feel under my fingertips, how it would feel to be utterly helpless beneath him, subject to his command..._

His pose faltered. His foot fell to the floor crooked, and threw off his balance just slightly. Rage boiled deep in the pit of his stomach at his inability to control his wicked, disgusting desires for even a moment. He had been smitten for, admittedly, quite a long while now, but as of late his pitiful feelings had grown more and more intense. A swirling flame that lapped at his throat, choking him on its smoke and suffocating him from the inside out. But underneath the flame sat something arguably worse, a burning, aching passion that demanded his attention at all hours. At first he had brushed this off as his natural passion to serve and protect the king, but after observing the behaviour of his fellow guard, he began to come to the realization that his love was far more selfish and arrogant than he had hoped. He often imagined horribly deviant scenarios between the two of them, daydreamed over what it would feel like to touch him, to hold him... It was disgusting.

The heat of rage in his gut settled low to a horrid tightness in his nether regions that he detested. His face grew warm and tacky, and it was moments like this where Pouf greatly loathed just how human he was. It was useful, to be sure, but he also suffered the same inconveniences and blights of the human male body, arousal being one of them. Potentially the worst human folly, arousal served as an archaic fuel that served humans for nothing more than breeding. How they hadn't evolved past this primitive urge, or at least honed it so it wasn't so volatile, he was honestly amazed.

That didn't change anything though, most certainly not the growing problem in his loins that ached for his attention. He heaved a sigh. If he didn't deal with this, it would be a pestering nuisance for a good while until it settled itself, and this was not something he intended to deal with for that long. He surmised that if he headed to his quarters, he could get it over with in a few minutes' time, as he had, regretfully, done many times before. Still, he faltered for a moment, absentmindedly fingering the strings of his violin once again while he berated himself for indulging in such filth yet again. He liked to believe that he was the perfect specimen (beneath the king, of course), a supreme being above the fatuity of humans, but it was moments like these where he was violently reminded that he was a slave to his instincts, just the same as anything else that roamed this earth.

His quarters weren't the ideal place to be doing something like this. Mostly due to the fact that there was only one bedroom in the palace, of course belonging to the king, while his sanctioned room was a library. Wide, with stone walls that echoed much like those of the room before. Still, he made do with what he could. Pillows that had adorned the couches that lined the wall sat in a pile like a nest, the cushions laid on the inside much the same. He had taken his time arranging them, almost as though stalling the inevitable. Once it was said and done though, he knew he had to solve this issue quickly so as to be perfectly alert whilst guarding the palace and his king.

_My king..._ he thought as he lowered himself to rest on the soft pile. The words sent sparks racing towards his erection from the pit of his stomach, and as much as he'd like to say he detested it, right now he could think of nothing but the way it felt. He had no moment of hesitation, no final guilty moment, before sliding himself out of the restrictive fabric of his pants. He sighed as he laid hands on it, making a quiet yet embarrassing sound.

He wasted no time with tender touches and careful preparation, as he saw no need to. Pouf was never the type to savor these moments, quite the opposite in fact. He leaned back against the wall as he pumped himself at a steady pace with pointed strokes aimed right for his most sensitive spots. He felt his face grow warm and his breath leaving him slightly heavier. On every third stroke, he thumbed over his leaking head, drawing out a rather desperate moan on his first pass that echoed a bit too loudly for his liking. He used his unoccupied hand to cover his mouth. Thoughts raced through his head while he kept up his pace, too fast to single out, but they all shared one key feature: the king. He imagined what it would be like to touch him, to hold him, to lie under him and be used for anything he desired. That last thought made his hips jerk, much to his disgust. Still, he didn't try to stop these new, worse thoughts from overtaking him, picking up his pace while picturing nothing but the king using him as the tool he is. He moaned without thinking, his hand muffling it a bit, though it still echoed in the vastness of the room, embarrassing him even further, which strangely enough only seemed to excite him more. His hips jerked again, guiding his hand as he brushed his head again with his thumb. His breath escaped him in shallow pants now, his chest heaving and sweat trickling down his back. The sensations to his cock were almost too much, but he couldn't help how satisfying it felt. He once again pictured himself with the king, though this time it was different. He imagined the king just behind him. Leaning on his chest, the beating of his heart pounding in his ears as _his_ hand made a mess of him, ruined his guard with his powerful, world conquering hands, Pouf melting into his touch as he drew him closer to his edge.

Closer... and closer... and-

Pouf cried out as his orgasm finally crashed over him, thick ropes of cum ruining his shirt as he bucked his hips into his hand and whined in a feeble chase to get back those hands on him- the king's hands -so he wouldn't have to let go of them. The mere thought of his touch had sent him reeling, and now, like an addict, he couldn't stop now. He saw stars behind his eyes and his hand did nothing to hide the horrible moans he was letting out now, but it was in vain. After the crash came the fall, which hit him at full force as he slumped over onto the ground, chest still heaving. With his last bit of effort he managed to tuck himself shamefully away back into his pants, as if it wouldn't be painfully obvious what he had done by the state of him and his shirt. He didn't care much, or at least he didn't quite yet in his state of post-orgasmic bliss.

He knew that when the morning came, the shame would catch up to him, as it always did. Wrapping him in a coat of self-loathing and disgust, replaying the gravity of his disgusting actions for the rest of his days. But that was for the morning. Shame always came in the morning. Right now, however, he could feel the king's hands ghosting against his skin as he drifted off to sleep, forgetting entirely about his incomplete shift. That sounded like another problem for the morning. For a Shiapouf that wasn't a heaving, sticky mess.

**Author's Note:**

> this was an unedited mess but i knew if i didnt finish it tonight (its taken over a month to write this messy garbage) then i'd never finish it so! we're posting it unbeta'd and unedited. im sorry <3


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